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“They will tend the horses for us,” he announced. “Their father came to work as a farrier, but there are no horses, so he works as a general blacksmith instead.”
The story was irrelevant, but the conversation made a good cover. She laid a hand to her horse's nose. Molasses tried to nibble her fingers. She pulled them away. “Oh, good. She could use a good brushing, it's been such a long ride.”
“We'll take good care of them, ma'am, don't worry,” one of the youths said in a clear Kentorian accent. By the Light, her estimate of half the camp being Kentorian was coming up modest.
The other young man pointed to the west end of the courtyard. “There's the King's Hall, up there. Can't miss it. Whenever you're done, you can come out to the field just beyond the east gate. We'll have them out there grazing, and we'll show you a safe place to tie them up at night and picket them during the day.”
“Thank you both,” Rilion said as he passed them the reins.
Gil offered a few more instructions, then turned to lead the way toward the so-called King's Hall.
Thea turned her head to watch the two young men depart with their steeds in tow.
So the horses would be just beyond the walls. That would either make them easy to get to during an escape, or it would doom them by forcing them to find a way past those walls to recover their mounts. Thea prayed for the former, then scolded herself. She should pray for something safer than a need for escape. The discovery they were in the wrong place, maybe. Or that they'd walk through the doors into the King's Hall and discover the man Gil sought for his revenge was already dead.
At that moment, the full weight of what they were doing finally hit her and she slowed to a stop.
She understood the nature of his quest and had disconnected that act from the charming and gentlemanly companion he'd been. She stared at his back as he walked with his chin up and his back straight, kingly and merciless, just the way she'd always heard. There was no denying his identity now. Just as there was no denying what the outcome of this would be.
Sooner or later, they'd find the man Gil was after, and that man would die.
As he climbed the steps to the King's Hall, she had a fleeting vision of him flinging the doors wide and commanding attention from the moment he stepped through. Instead, he opened only one door, then motioned for her to precede him. Her hand itched for her dagger's hilt, so she curled her fingers into her palm and squeezed her fist tight. There was little risk yet. No one knew who they were or why they'd come, and they were supposed to have an audience with the king. A flashback to thefirstaudience she'd had with a king put a grim smile on her lips.
“I've never seen such a frightening look of amusement,” Rilion said as he slipped in after her.
“Just remembering the first time I met Gil.” She was tempted to turn and bat her eyes at him as he followed the two of them into the antechamber, but they were not alone, so she kept it to herself.
Gil wore a smirk of his own. Perhaps he'd made the same connection. “This meeting may go the same way.”
Rilion muttered something under his breath and trudged farther into the room. There were no chairs or benches, only the smooth stone floor. A handful of people leaned against the walls or sat on the floor, waiting their turn to be seen. The prince picked a place against the wall and settled with a sigh, never looking back to see if they intended to join him.
Come to think of it, Thea didn't know if they'd be seen together or separately. They should have discussed that possibility on the way over.
“If their king is efficient, it won't be long,” Gil said as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
“And if he's not, at least we'll be well-rested.” Rilion smirked and leaned back with his hands folded behind his head.
A pair of doors at the end of the antechamber opened and a man in red-trimmed green livery stepped through. He pointed at each of the people waiting and made a face. “Ten only? The count is worse every day. All of you, come along. You'll be seen now, since there are so few of you.”
Thea hadn't even decided where to settle. She shrugged and waited for Gil to take the lead.
The steward gave them an unimpressed once-over before he led them through the doors.
The hall on the other side was impressive. High pillars supported an arched ceiling, and a fine red carpet ran the length of the floor to a high, white stone dais. The throne was there, but its back was turned toward them, flanked by two guards. On the other side of the throne, people stood, facing the doorway to speak to the fortress's king. Curious.
The steward stopped them just inside the doors and sorted them into two rows. “You may not look upon His Majesty unless he calls for you. Your business may be stated from behind him, but you shall still bow.” He straightened a man's collar, then moved on to push down the hood of Gil's cloak.
Gil caught his arm and opened his mouth to either protest or doom them all, when one of the doors to the throne room slammed open.
“Your Majesty!” A scout in travel-worn clothing hurried forward, past the objections of the steward, to drop to one knee before the dais and the back of the throne. “I bring news from Kentoria. You've done it. The false king is dead!”
“Dead?” The word was touched with surprise and delight.
Well, there was their answer. Thea glanced to Gil for direction, or perhaps just acknowledgment, but the look on his face was stricken.
“By the One's mercy,” Rilion whispered.
Thea's eyes darted to the throne as a man stood and turned, and when she saw him, she understood.
